


things left out (part one)

by badAquatic, orphan_account



Series: Trailerstuck [35]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society, F/M, M/M, Teen Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-27 06:50:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badAquatic/pseuds/badAquatic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat helps Vriska move out of her place and thinks about his relationships. </p>
<p>Takes place during "in the jungle" and "being for the benefit of miss harley?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. moving out (again)

**Author's Note:**

> “And this wasn’t lying, not really. It was leaving out.”   
> ― Stephen King, Hearts in Atlantis

**== >Be Karkat after the wake**

 

After the wake there’s nothing special about the world. No greater appreciation for the clockworks of life and death turning, no pondering your own funeral and the possible lifespan difference between Dave and you. The day after Dualscar’s wake is just another Wednesday. You sit under the gust of two fans, fighting against boiling noontime temperature. You’re on Monster.com looking for a job when Strider walks through the door. He’s still wearing his eye-searing orange-red-yellow Starboons uniform.

“Looks like you’ve taken over my bed again.” he says.

“Its my bed too. I thought you were at work. Did you get fired?”

“Nah, some green genes showed up and were protesting. The manager was going to ignore them but one of them threw a bottle and hit Mierfa in the face, so he let some of us go home while he called the cops.”

“Who the fuck is Mierfa?”

“A chick I work with it. She’s like some-shade-of-blueblood. She goes to our school.”

Your school is so big you didn’t bother keeping track of anyone not in your neighborhood. “What were they protesting?”

“Something about the coffee beans being genetically modified and it was against the Maiden’s wishes and how we were going to burn in hell, et cetera. They’re all morons.”

The Maiden’s Warriors (or the ‘green genes’) were one part cult, one part eco-extremists. They were against any modification, from taking hormone shots for birth control to changing the genetics of plants and animals so that they could live and grow on New Earth.

They were also anti-mutated _anything,_ attacking mutantbloods and mutated humans on sight. “Did they hurt _you_?”

Dave flops onto the bed. “They know better than to come near me. This local sect or whatever already got their asses kicked by Bro and Jake in the past.”

“You’d think our fucking _state_ that’s supposed to _protect its citizens_ would do something about those assholes.”

“What else is new? Unless they’re harassing people in the burbs, they don’t care.” Dave yawns and lies on your back, “Anything good show up jobwise?”

“Just shit from strip clubs and bars.”

“What’s wrong with bars? Not comfortable with alcohol?”

“You kidding me? I practiced reading by looking at Kankri’s liquor labels. I’m more worried about the _patrons_ of said bars; might as well hang a sign off my glute saying ‘Fuck me’.”

“Is sexual harassment _that_ bad?”

“You have no idea, though New Jack City is _tame_ compared to Los Jaspers _._ ”

Los Jaspers was all over the news since a forced prostitution ring was uncovered yesterday, located in a motel hidden deep in the mountains. There was nothing but warmbloods there, completely dependent on their kidnappers. Their kidnappers were paid handsomely to let tourists have their services, and they sold any eggs that were laid. There were kits in that place, clinging to their parents. The oldest trolls were eighteen. You can’t fathom being in that place; taken from your home and cut off from the world. The days turn into weeks. Weeks turn into years and Stockholm syndrome sets in. You start to accept and love everything about the people who took you away from home.

You shudder. No. You’re not going to become another statistic.

“There have to be clubs for warmbloods where they feel safe.” Dave says.

“If they are, they’re not hiring.”

You delete an application from The Battle of the Bulge and move to the next offer, which has no sex puns in the title or emoticons. The headline reads: _We would like to invite you._ You open it and there’s a well typed letter with logo, a stylized M3S. It’s from the Merry Meet Maid Service, a local business sponsored by Lutecorp, the same company that made Fuchi-Sol and kitty and grub litter.

“This doesn’t look too bad.” you say to Dave, “Twenty an hour, and after a health exam you get benefits.”

“Isn’t it dangerous to be a maid?”

“The only people who can afford maids live in Variance Beach, or East New Jack. Those bleeding-heart hippies are creampuffs. I bet if I speak nothing but French they’ll give me double tips.”

“Sounds sketchy; isn’t twenty twice minimum wage?”

“Not _all_ the cleaning services in New Jack are criminal related. There has to be a few legit places. I’m checking it out right now.” While googling the name of the company and the corporation, your Trollichum starts flashing.

 

\-- cursoryAquarium[CA] began trolling carcinoGeneticist[CG]!-- 

 

CA: howv are you, kiddo?

 

Well, this is the last person you expect to talk to. You haven’t seen Cronus since the funeral now that he’s living in the Squalor.

 

CG: I’M FINE. HOW’S WORK?

CA: its vwork. id take a fewv days off but i cant.  

CG: UH, HOW ARE YOU DOING SINCE GRANDPA DIED? I KNOW YOU TWO WEREN’T CLOSE BUT HE WAS STILL YOUR FATHER.

CA: …

CA: hes not your grandpa, kid. he nevwer vwas.

CG: SO…

CA: yeah. youwve most likely figured it out by nowv. im not your mother or father. just the useless asshole vwho stuck around out of the vwrong kind of pity.

CG: BUT I HAVE VESTIGAL GILLS.

CA: theyre not from my side of the family. gills pop up sometimes if you havwe highblood in you since highbloods have wvestigial gills themselvwes. its from your other grandfather. if you look close enough, kankri has fine indentations on his neck vwhere gills vwould havwe been.

CG: WELL…IT DOESN’T MATTER TO ME IF WE’RE RELATED OR NOT. YOU STUCK AROUND AND WATCHED OUT FOR ME. THAT’S WHAT A PARENT DOES, BLOOD OR NOT.

CA: you basically raised yourself cause i vwas always vworking. i stayed because i felt guilty after vwhat dualscar did to kankri.

CG: I KNOW ABOUT THAT. KANKRI TOLD ME.

CA: he told you *evwerything*?

CG: WHAT DO YOU MEAN “EVERYTHING”?

CA: did he tell you vwhat happened to the egg?

CG: WHAT EGG?

CA: i guess he didnt then…

CG: MOM, WHAT EGG?

CA: its not a pleasant story, karkat.

CG: IF YOU WON’T TELL ME, I’LL ASK KANKRI.

CA: no! dont fucking ask kankri!

CG: WHY?

CA: because he just got sober is vwhy! kankris frail, karkat. he still struggles vwith his problems and his memorys healing up. i bet he doesn’t evwen remember that time he tried to kill himself.

CG: YOU MEAN WITH ALOCHOL?

CA: i mean vwith jumping off the school building.

CG: WHAT?

CA: yeah. during highschool kankri tried to jump off the building. wvantas senior got him down though. after that he left school and stayed in his trailer all the time. 

CG: YOU TOLD ME YOU DATED THROUGH HIGHSCHOOL.

CA: that vwas a vwhite lie to keep kankri…calm.

CG: HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU FUCKING LIED TO ME?

CA: karkat, in the early days…you don’t remember this because you vwere vwith wvantas senior a lot but kankri vwas wvery unstable and it got vworse after wvantas senior died. he vwould havwe sudden mood swvings. wviolent mood swings. even vworse than nowv.

CG: WORSE HOW?

CA: they vwere angry. vwhen he’s angry kankris strength comes out and he’s near impossible to calm down vwithout alcohol.

 

His _purpleblood_ strength, you remind yourself. Your rage is Kankrki’s rage and Kankri’s rage comes from the Grand Highblood.

 

CA: the drinking didnt help but he didnt vwant to hurt you or anyone else.

CG: …HOW DO YOU KNOW WHO KANKRI’S FATHER IS?

CA: most of us in the manor knewv. it vwas an open secret.

CG: WHY DIDN’T ANYONE TELL KANKRI?

CA: kankri knowvs. kankri has to knowv because hes not stupid. hes been vwith enough purplebloods to realize only makaras havwe his stamina, size, teeth. kankri tries to shut it out and bringing it up just puts him on edge.  

CA: thats vwhy he doesnt learn to fight. hes afraid of his aggression. evwen someone vwith a drop of highblood in them can snap. you should havwe seen porrims temper tantrums vwhen she vwas a kit.

CA: my question is howv do *you* knowv the ghb is kanrkis real father?

CG: …EDUCATED GUESS?

CG: bullshit.

CG: NOT BULLSHIT.

CA: did you go somevwhere you *knowv* youre not supposed to?

CG: NO.

CA: karkat.

CG: NO!

CA: did you go to darkleer manor?

CG: NO WAY!

CA: dont lie to me, mister!

CG: ……IT WAS SOLLUX’S IDEA!

CA: youre both in trouble.

CG: BUT WE GOT A LOT OF RARE AND VALUBLE STUFF, MOM!  

CA: that place is forbidden for a reason, karkat. asbestos kills trolls too.

CG: MOOOOM! YOU’RE NOT LISTENING! WE FOUND REALLY NEAT STUFF, LIKE A REALLY OLD DIARY!

CA: a diary? vwhat kind of diary?

CG: I DON’T KNOW BUT ITS OLD AND THICK BUT I CAN’T READ IT. I WAS GOING TO GIVE IT TO ARANEA TO TRANSLATE.

CA: whats on the cover?

CG: THE COVER? I DON’T KNOW. HOLD ON.

 

You slide from under Strider and get on your knees. You pull out your knapsack of pilfered items from Darkleer Manor and look at the journal. The marks on the cover are dulled with age. You go back to the husktop.

 

CG: ITS GOT THE OLD MUTANTBLOOD AND FUSCHIABLOOD HEMOTYPE SYMBOL ON IT. IT LOOKS LIKE A LOT OF PAGES AND PAMPHLETS WERE ADDED SINCE THE BINDING IS WEARING OUT.

CA: holy shit. karkat, i think you found the signless’s journal.

CG: GRANDPA’S JOURNAL?

CA: its the book the signless kept before and after the starfall. the story of hid kithood up until his “death”. supposedly he transcribed a lot of things condesce and redglare told him and organized them into a single story.

CA: its sort of your grandfathers wversion of the tome. on old alternia if you vwanted to say all hemocastes wvere included, you’d put the highest and lowest symbol together.

CA: but i don’t think thats the only thing in there. i thought i lost that book a long time ago…i vwas pretty broken up about it.

CG: WHY?

CA: not important right nowv. you need to givwe that to aranea. like right awvay. shell probably cheer up since wvriska’s mowving out.

CG: OKAY.

CG: AM I IN LESS TROUBLE NOW?

CA: slightly less. im still mad.

CG: LOVE YOU, MOM.

CA: i lowve you too, karkat.

 

\-- cursoryAquarium[CA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist[CG --

 

Strider smirks, “Awww, Karkat loves his Mermommy.”

“Shut up! My Mom put up with a lot of crap and works very hard. He deserves all my love!” You slide off the bed and grab your shorts off the floor.

“You’re putting on pants. Must be important.”

You pull a wife-beater over your head. “I’m heading to Aranea’s. Are you going to do something or just be a douche as normal?”

“I’ll be waiting for my chubby boyfriend to come back and rub on me so I’ll pay attention to him.”

“I am not chubby and I don’t rub on you because I want attention. I rub on you so other people back off.”

“What do you mean ‘back off’?”

“I’m making you smell like me so other trolls know that you’re mine.”

“… _what_? Is that why all those coldblood assholes hit on me and that mutantblood at work is always rubbing on me? I thought that he was just weird.”  

You growl, “Rubbing on you? Who is he? I’ll kick his ass!”

“No, Karkat; do not come to my job and lay the smack down on my co-worker. I do not want to be even more white trash than I already am.”

“I don’t care! I’ll put that bitch in the ground if they think they can rub their scent on my man!”

“Wait a minute…you slept with Vriska, Terezi, _and_ you want to sleep with Rufioh!”

“That’s different! That’s instincts! Unless you’re looking to pitch this guy, its _not_ _cool_!”

It takes Strider several minutes to calm you down from initiating a Troll Maury beat down at Starboons. You leave the mobilehive, carrying your knapsack to the Serket mobilehive.

Aranea answers the door, looking tired and teary eyed. “Yes, Karkat. What is it?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Vriska’s just moving her things. She’s all grown up now. Off into the world…” She sniffs, “What is it Karkat? We’re in the middle of _The Holy Blood and the Holy Matriorb._ ”

Its just like Aranea to console herself by watching hokey History channel documentaries. “I got something for you to look at.”

You enter the mobilehive and place the knapsack on the kitchen table. Horuss is sitting on the living room couch, ignoring you as the questionable historian launches into his theory of how the Mother Grub and Holy Matriorb never existed.

Aranea hovers over you as you reveal the book. You hand it to her, “There’s other letters to go with it too; all in Old Alternian.”

Aranea’s hands are shaking as she picks up the book. “T-this is…oh my gods…Karkat…this is _it_!” She looks at you, grinning, “The Gospel of the Signless!” Her voice is trembling; whispering like she’s Troll Indiana Jones after uncovering the Adytum of the Covenant. “ _This_ is what the Signless wrote on Alternia; his methodology, his theories, his history, his life, his every word and breath! _This_ is the great secret the False Emperor destroyed the Imperial Library on the colony planet for.”

“Why’d he do that?”

“As I always say in class: ‘He who controls the past, controls the future.’ You’d probably know that if you bothered to pay attention.” You scowl. “How did you _find_ this Karkat?”

“Well,” you mutter, “we did some exploring and just sort of…stumbled on it…”

Aranea peeks at the living room. Horuss is enthralled by the documentary. She whispers, “You went snooping in the manor.”

“Mom already chewed me out about it, but without the snooping you wouldn’t have that book.”

“Horuss already knows _one_ of you went to the manor since Rufioh told me to tell him, but you better pray he doesn’t find out it was _you_.”

“Alright, I’ll keep quiet...” You hear Vriska grunting in her room, boxes scraping across the floor. You walk past Aranea and peek inside, seeing the cerulean packing. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Vriska is unloading books into a box: Sgrub ‘n’ Burbs Monster Manual, Medium Master’s Guide, Player’s Option: God Tier-Level Campaigns and bags of plastic dice. “I joined up with SPC.”

“The Single Parent Coalition? You’re not a single parent.”

Vriska glares at you. “You’re not in my quadrants, _Karkat._ ”

“Oh. Yeah. Right.” you mutter. “Where are you going then?”

“They set me up with Dolorosa House so they put me on 20th Street.”

“20th Street? That’s West New Jack!” Anything with a number in the street name was West New Jack ‘The Squalor’, a chaotic patch of land where only poverty stricken immigrants and burnouts ended up before Aniline End. “That’s no place for a single troll!”

“Cronus lives in the Squalor.”

“Cronus is a grown man!”

“Calm down, Vantas.” She shuts the box, “I’m a broke-ass cerulean. Dolorosa House is a government program that reserves areas owned by scummy landlords for single parents. I’ll be paying some rent to the DD since his family owns most, if not all, of the low-income property in New Jack City.”

“You’ve done your research.” you say, genuinely impressed.

“You have to if you’re going to survive on your own.” Vriska grunts, trying to pick up the box.

You sigh and push her aside. “Let me handle this.”

“I’m doing fine!”

“No you’re not! I’m the father; at least let me do _this._ ” You try to pick up the box and then immediately put it back down, “Fuck! This thing is _heavy_!”

“Well duh. That roleplaying stuff piles on after a while.”

With a lot of grunting and groaning, you manage to get the box all the way to Aranea’s car, which already has two boxes stuffed in the back. You unload the box in the trunk and return to Vriska’s bedroom; getting a trunk of clothes and jewelry she just finished packing. You get the trunk to the hall outside of her bedroom before you have to take a breather.

“Why is everything you own _heavy?_ I feel like I’m moving the Condesce’s imperial wardrobe.” Vriska glares at you, “Why are you giving me _that_ look?”

“You’re the one who keeps trying to help!”

“That was before I realized you were trying to move the Canzian army.” You return to dragging the box down the hall.

“Just fuck off if it’s too heavy. I’ll get some clowns to help. They toss shit around like a piñata.”

“No! You are not allowed to associate with dirty club clowns!”

“ _Karkaaaaaaaat_ —” she groans.

“I forbid it!” you insist, still dragging the trunk.

She arches an eyebrow and follows you, carrying bags. “Oh? You forbid it? And what are _you_ going to do to stop me? _Huh_?”

“Just because I’m not in your quadrants doesn’t mean I don’t worry about your safety!”

“I know how to handle myself, Karkat. I’m not a fat mutant.”

“Kankri weighs _a lot more_ than I do and I bet he couldn’t lift this fucking thing!”

“And yet you look like you’re about to have a heart attack.”

“I am not and this is worth it!” you growl, dragging the trunk to the car.

Vriska shakes her head, “You are going on a long break after this. I’ll put the rest in.”

“No, I can handle it! My grandfather could pick up three times this weight!” You’re not your grandfather though. You’re wheezing by the time you get the trunk to the hovercar.

Vriska smirks, “Your grandfather was a tall, strong, and sexy, Karkat.”

You think of your grandfather with his carved abs, picking you up and asking if his favorite kit wanted a Kit-Kat. You grin, “Yeah…he really was…”

“I’ll do the rest, Karkat. I don’t want to call the ambulance.”

“I don’t care if I have to make snacks or drive the car, I’m helping!”

“Then just sit in the driver’s seat and wait for me to finish packing.”

“Fine, but I’m making snacks too.” you grumble.

She rolls her eyes, “Knew I should have called the clowns…”

You limp from the car to the front door, “Where do you even know clowns from?”

Vriska drops her bags in the back seat and follows you inside. “While I was at SPC downtown, I went to the casinos on First Street. I dropped by Buccaneer’s Bliss and they had a few clowns there. I gambled a bit and chatted them up. They’re pretty friendly when you’re not a warmblood with a huge glute.”

“My glute is not huge!” You enter the kitchen and look through the cupboards, filled with overpriced organic food.

Vriska smirks, “I think the toddler in the Denzia sweatshop that sews your pants will beg to differ.”

The freezer is filled with tubes of frozen croissants. “Why do you have eleven tubes of _croissants_?”

“I’ve been craving them thanks to _him._ ” Vriska points to her stomach.

“Why are you so sure it’s a ‘he’?”

“Only a Vantas would make me eat seven croissants in a row and fall asleep to boring documentaries about social revolutions.”

“I doubt a grub can make you do all of _that_. Maybe your Serket nerd side is just showing more.”

“And maybe your kid is going to be a sugar-craving chubby idiot like you?”

“He’s not even laid yet and you’re already blaming me for shit.” You grab a croissant tube and upend it into a plate. “You’re lucky I’m trying to practice my cooking and cleaning skills.”

“Why?”

“I got a job application from a cleaning place.”

Instead of grinning at the prospect of getting a monthly check from you, she frowns. “Maid jobs are dangerous, idiot.”

“This one’s legit. Its sponsored by Lutecore, which is a legit business.”

“And they’re owned by NEBio,” Vriska says, “one of the biggest pharm companies on the planet. Their CEOs sit on the board for Amethyst and they test their birth control and meds on _prisoners_.” You stare at her, “The clowns I talked to did a stint there for armed robbery. They got out early cause they did the _horrible_ birth control trial.”

“What do they make you do?”

“Trust me; you don’t want to know. You’d throw up everywhere.”

“Would not! And if they’re so shady, why do they have tons of other employees I can track?”

“Any shady operation has to have legitimate people on staff to keep the feds from tracing illicit money. I bet they’ve been blackmailed or paid not to speak about the real shit that’s going on. You are _so_ _dense_ about the world, Karkat.”

“I am not dense about the world! This place is legit and I can prove it.”

You show her the website on your iHusk but she’s not convinced. She goes on her iHusk, “They say they’re sponsored by Lutecore but I can’t find anything solid for Lutecore itself, just a small wiki article on what products they make and a website that’s been ‘under construction’ since 2123. There’s no employee listing either. It says they’re based out of Dadlas. Why would a Dadlas company take interest in a small New Jack City maid service?”

“Maybe they’re trying to build a local presence? Apexcom, NihonUs, and DynamiCHEM are foreign companies and they sponsor kids to go to private school.”

“You’re determined not to listen to me, huh?”

“I just don’t want to reject a great job that could give me free health care out of paranoia.” Vriska folds her arms, still glowering. “I know maid jobs aren’t ideal, but the fact is that even if I work I’m gonna get fucked over if me or my kids get sick. The last thing I want to be is to be a corpslave.”

Whole neighborhoods have moved out of the Ninth Ward heading to the Happy Harbor barges bound for corp arcologies. Medical debt was the reason your grandfather refused treatment for his illness.

“I’m just trying to take responsibility for my family. If Kankri can do it, so can I.”

“Whatever.” she growls.

 

* * *

 

Living in the Squalor will never be appealing to you. The rent may be lower but its crowded urban living; no yards, constant noise, the stench of overflowing garbage mixing with barbeque smoke. You travel down a bumpy and broken road, parking on the uneven sidewalk in front of a townhouse squeezed between two other townhouses looking ready to collapse. The front door is battered and one of the windows boarded. People are hanging out on the porches; some purplebloods are eying you up. You try not to look at them.

“They stick single mothers in these things? I think even the DD would hesitate to put people here.” you say.

“You give him too much credit.” Vriska snorts. “This place rents cheap for a reason and the waiting list is long. I only got in ‘cause the woman who lived here died recently.”

“That’s pretty lucky.”

Vriska grins. “I told you back in first grade, Karkat: I have _all_ the luck.”

The townhouse is small with the living room being the most spacious area shared with a dining area; the kitchen is a walled-off space with a tiny window. There’s rickety stairs leading to two rooms.  You enter the kitchen and notice notches in the doorway frame, marked _Hector_ and _Achile._ There’s a far taller notch marked _Mommy._ The walls have crayon scribble and small handprints. On the fridge are colorful letter magnets spelling out ‘HECTOR’. It's hard to ignore there were children living here; children you’ll never know or see.

“What… _happened_ to her? The other woman?”you ask.

Vriska dumps a box on the lopsided couch, “I think the lady next door said she’d been shot in that drive by at Chumhandle’s a week ago.”

“You mean the one that wasn’t on the news despite it being a big fucking deal? That’s within _walking_ _distance_ of here? What if the same assholes that did that come here?”

“Stop fussing. I already checked it out.” Vriska walks back to the car, “Come on; we still have to get the recuperacoon. That’s the heaviest thing.”

Luck is not on your side though and after a while Vriska gets the local clowns to help. You’ve attracted three of them, gawking at the mutantblood attempting to carry everything. You’re still determined to help and make snacks and serve drinks.

“You shouldn’t do that.” Vriska whispers. You’re in the kitchen making guacamole the old fashioned way. You even bought overpriced avocados from the tiny supermarket so you could have the excuse to stay in the kitchen.

“What? You need the vitamins.”

“Not the guacamole, Karkat. You can’t show you’re afraid of the clowns; that just encourages them.”

The clowns are sitting in the living room, watching TWWF. “I’m not afraid…” you lie, “I just don’t want to be bothered.”

“That non-confrontational stuff doesn’t work. Look where it got Kankri.” Vriska says, “Clowns feed on fear. Their religion is based around enjoying and deciphering the very _concept_ of fear, so if you show fear or anxiety, they’re going to be attracted to that. If you’re so scared of being attacked, why don’t you take a self-defense class? Didn’t Kankri ever teach you how to protect yourself or your grandpa?”

“Grandpa wanted to teach me but Kankri said he didn’t want to ‘promote violence’.” But you know the real reason; Kankri didn’t want to trigger the purpleblood bloodlust buried inside you.

“Karkat, you’re always shouting at people. What’s the point of being angry if you can’t back it up?”

“Can we not do this?” You sigh. “It's not that I don’t agree with you it's just that…” This conversation just reminds you of the arguments your grandfather and Kankri used to have. If Kankri made any promises to your grandfather about keeping you safe, they were forgotten with alcohol.

Vriska throws her hands in the air and leaves the kitchen, “Fine. Don’t listen to me. _Again._ ” 

Your iHusk vibrates and you look at your Trollichum.

 

\--turntechGodhead[TG] began trolling carcinoGeneticist[CG]!--

 

TG: so i was under the impression that youd actually come back home

TG: not like i miss you shouting at the tv about fictional characters who keep messing up their quadrants with plot contrived love affairs and evil twin clones but you figure as boyfriends we would hang out

CG: I’M HELPING VRISKA MOVE.

TG: for like four hours?

CG: IT’S A LOT OF STUFF.

TG: it cant be that much she lived in a trailer

CG: YEAH, BUT IT’S A DIFFERENT AREA AND NOW SHE’S GOT SKETCHY CLOWNS AROUND. I’M JUST MAKING SURE THAT SHE’S ALRIGHT.

TG: why?

CG: WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHY? SHE’S MY FRIEND!

TG: yeah but she can take care of herself a lot better than you can

TG: you have like all the fight skills of a little kid and shes just that your friend not your girlfriend

CG: SHE’S NOT JUST A FRIEND. SHE HAPPENS TO HAVE MY KID. I JUST WANT TO MAKE SURE SHE’S SETTLED.

TG: oh

TG: so youre spending another night with your sidemeat

CG: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

TG: youre with a troll you hook up which i have no problem with when youre in heat but now youre hovering around her and i start to wonder if you just prefer her over me

CG: I DON’T LIKE HER BETTER THAN YOU.

TG: name one thing we actually have in common like tv books movies things like that

CG: WE HAVE A LOT OF COMMON INTERESTS!

TG: karkat i hate your shitty romcoms and you know it

TG: troll serendipity makes me want to punch all the good looking male leads in their face forever its that bad

CG: TROLL SERENDIPITY IS A CLASSIC! AND FINE, I HATE YOUR STUPID CEREBRAL UNDERGROUND NEO-NOIR MOVIES AND TROLLANIME. ESPECIALLY THAT NEW ONE WITH THAT PUPIL-SHRUNKEN GIRL AND EVERYTHING INTERESTING HAPPENS OFF SCREEN! WHAT’S THE POINT OF WATCHING A SHOW WHERE YOU HAVE TO GUESS THE INTERESTING SHIT?

TG: whats the point of watching romcoms that make the mutantblood a weepy overemotional mess isnt that insulting your hemotype

CG: ITS FOR FUN AND I CAN TURN MY BRAIN OFF AND RELAX INSTEAD OF HAVING MY CEREBELLUM ASSAULTED BY THAT DRECK YOU CALL CINEMA.

TG: its supposed to make you think and you hate critical thinking in all forms you were the only one who managed to get a d in health how in the shit do you even accomplish that did your brain suddenly die

CG: SHUT UP ABOUT THAT YOU OBNOXIOUS HIPSTER AND ISN’T BEING A HIPSTER OUTDATED? IT’S THE 22ND CENTURY; WHY ARE HIPSTERS STILL AROUND?

TG: because if you bothered to pay attention in school youd know that trends cycle and im not a hipster im a ironic coolkid loner

CG: YOU’RE A PRETENTIOUS DOUCHEBAG IS WHAT YOU ARE. YOU LIVE IN A TRAILER PARK FOR JEGUSSAKE! I BET THE OTHER HIPSTERS THINK YOU’RE A POSER SINCE THEY CAN SMELL THE POVERTY ON YOU AND YOU DON’T EAT ORGANIC VAT-GROWN TOFU SHIT.

TG: wow do you spew your bile at everyone or do you just reserve it for me because if this is the special treatment that people you like get no wonder terezi and vriska don’t want anything to do with you

CG: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT NOW, STRIDER?

TG: karkat be realistic for once

TG: terezis with kankri after getting fed up with you and vriskas keeping you at arms length terezi told me how shes been hanging out at the casino clubs and if you ask me it sounds like shes trolling for glute

TG: she didnt even tell you she was moving until you went to araneas you dont find that weird

 

Seeing that stings a lot worse than you thought it would.

 

CG: JADE DOESN’T WANT ANYTHING TO DO WITH YOU EITHER.

TG: thats because i picked your pain in the ass self over her though i wonder why i did that

CG: YOU FUCKED ME FIRST SO IT WAS MORE YOUR IDEA THAN MINE.

TG: like you werent already staring and harassing me it was getting old and i knew youd never have the balls to do it on your own

TG: or the shameglobes whatever

TG: and you have no position to bitch about jade because i dont make a big deal of you sleeping with half of the neighborhood  

CG: I DO NOT WANT TO SLEEP WITH HALF THE NEIGHBORHOOD! ITS JUST INSTINCTS!

TG: im starting to think thats bullshit i think you just want to fuck everybody and just shrug it off as long as im okay with it

TG: well thats bullshit even by troll standards and you know it

TG: id rather you be honest with me like are we even in a quadrant or is this basically a lets fuck everybody while i live with strider and eat his food and sleep in his bed

CG: …

CG: …I DON’T KNOW. I LOVE YOU AND IF I FOUND YOU LYING ON THE STREET HOMELESS I’D GIVE YOU THE SHIRT OFF MY BACK AND INVITE YOU INTO MY PLACE TO STAY FOR AS LONG AS YOU NEEDED. BUT I ALSO CAN’T STAND YOUR MUSIC, YOUR FASHION, YOUR STUPID SHADES, YOUR MOVIES, HOW YOU’RE OBSESSED WITH LOOKING COOL AND SOMETIMES I WANT TO PUNCH YOUR HANDSOME FACE AND MAKE OUT WITH YOU.

TG: it sounds like you have no idea how you feel

CG: I GUESS NOT. MUTANTBLOODS HAVE TROUBLE WITH QUADRANTS.

TG: is that why every mutantblood at school uses grids not quadrants

CG: YEAH BUT I’M NOT A HIPPIE OR A WHORE.

TG: the latter is up for debate

CG: SHUT UP. AND TO GET BACK TO OUR ORIGINAL TOPIC, YEAH, I’M PROBABLY NOT SHOWING UP UNTIL LATE.

TG: meaning youre going to end up screwing vriska again and having more offspring are you going for a world record

CG: YOU REALLY LIKE PUSHING MY BUTTONS DON’T YOU? I’M TRYING TO APOLOGIZE HERE.

TG: youre terrible at it then

CG: SINCE I’M NOT GOING TO BE AROUND WHY DON’T YOU TAKE SOME OF THE MONEY CRONUS GAVE ME AND BUY SOME MORE IRONIC POSTERS OR WHATEVER?

TG: where do you even keep your money?

CG: CHECK MY SYLLADEX. I LEFT IT UNDER YOUR BED.

TG: oh my god way to sound really new jack its called a bookbag nerd

CG: LIKE YOU HAVE ROOM TO TALK, COOLKID. I HEARD YOU CALL YOUR HIPSTER MESSENGER BAG A ‘HASH MAP FETCH MODUS’.

TG: thats its brandname and it has a cyberlock on it in case people try to steal shit cause yknow we live in the most dangerous part of the city

CG: ANYWAYS, LOOK IN THE…BOOK BAG AND THERE SHOULD BE A SMALL WALLET WITH A HUD KEYPAD LOCK. THE PASSWORD IS ‘TROLLWILLSMITHISHOTSTUFF69’ ALL CAPITALS.

TG: aww you and your love of troll will smith

CG: SHUT UP.

TG: should i interpret this as a trust exercise since youre giving me your passcode

CG: YOU SHOULD INTERPRET IT AS ME GIVING YOU SOMETHING TO DO WHILE I’M DEALING WITH VRISKA.

TG: holy shit you have like fifty boons in here

CG: ONLY TAKE TWENTY FIVE! THAT’S FROM MY MOM SINCE HE WORRIES ABOUT ME!

TG: screw that im going to long john silvers slots and betting it all

CG: I WILL MURDER YOU IN YOUR SLEEP, STRIDER.

TG: it was a joke im not that much of a dumbass

TG: but what do you expect me to do with this?

CG: I DON’T KNOW! TAKE IT AND GO HAVE HIPSTER SHENANIGANS, OR GET PISS ASS DRUNK AND VOMIT ON CAPTOR’S TRASH CAN.

TG: im not kankri ill probably stream a movie and order takeout

CG: FINE. WHATEVER MAKES YOU HAPPY.

TG: try not to get molested

CG: SHUT UP AND GO HAVE IRONIC FUN, YOU JERK.

 

\--carcinoGeneticist[CG] ceased trolling turntechGodhead[TG]!—

 

You miss Strider and your mixed-up quadrant. You feel guilty leaving him alone in that trailer while Dirk and Jake are out on the job. Here you are watching over Vriska and she doesn’t even want you around. You walk into the living room, carrying guacamole and chips. Vriska is sinking into her bean bag chair, struggling to stay awake. You walk past the clowns (still not making eye contact) and put the food on the table. 

You nudge Vriska. “Vris, hey, Vris,”  

Vriska turns her head, eyes still closed. “Go away...”  

“Vris, you need to go to bed.” you say.

“No… _you_.” she grumbles, wiping her eyes.

You try to sit up, “You need to get into your ‘coon.”

“I’m fine…” Vriska mutters, slumps back into the beanbag.

You look at the clowns, helping Vriska stand, “Alright, guys, time to pack up. Thanks for your help.”

One of the purplebloods grins. He reminds you of a tribal Gamzee, with septum piercings, gauges, and swirling arm tattoos. “Aw, what,” he snickers, “no kiss goodnight, mutie?”

You growl, “If you’re looking for a whore, they’re at the curb. Either piss off quietly or you can piss off loudly when I call the cops.”

“Like they’d even come in time.” He sneers.

“You wanna take that chance, big boy?” You stare him down, “Be my guest. The NJPD are sure to listen to _your_ side of the story.”  

The clowns growl but they’re not willing to get involved with the NJPD. You get them out of the house with minimum harassment (a leer there, someone trying to grab your glute here). You try to lock the door but the lock is busted. You push a chair against it and return to Vriska.

“You should get that lock fixed.” you say.

“It’s the landlord’s job to fix it. If I augment anything, I violate my lease and they throw me out on my ass. I can’t even paint the walls.”

“It's not safe. What if someone robs you?”

“Like I got anything worth the effort of stealing.”  

You clean up the plates and the bottles of Faygo and beer. You carry Vriska up the stairs, grunting through the kinks in your back.

You fill up the recuperacoon with sopor slime (which is the christening moment for any troll home). Sopor slime is easy to attain. You can buy it in squeeze-bottles at Walgreens or you can make your own at home. You prefer the homemade stuff if only because it’s a cost-cutter but Vriska’s bought Sopor Essence So Cozy, which (according to the label) is better for wriggled trolls. You fill up the recuperacoon with water halfway before you add in the “vitality gel” (a fancy word for aqua-colored agar which dilutes the sopor solution) that comes with the pack.

“You know,” you say as you pour the vitality gel into the purple pod, “people used to think that sopor slime was made from limebloods, like how Soylent Green was made of humans.”

Vriska is sitting on her daybed, eyes half open. “You mean that movie that scares everyone _but_ trolls and carapaces since they have a long history of cannibalism?” 

“Carapaces practiced cannibalism for a different reason.” you smirk, “Alternian trolls just had a hard-on for making shit out of dead troll babies. Grubsauce and cheese? Dead babies. Paint? Dead babies. Tacos? Dead babies and grade F meat. Just be happy we’re on a planet where that’s not cool anymore.”

“People still eat troll eggs.” Vriska says.

“…why?”

“It's considered a delicacy in Denzia, Bojangles, South Bojangles, and New Egypt. It's also said to be good for your health, sexual life, vitality…you know the same bullshit they always tell people. They use it to make bogus cures for illnesses too. The lady next to me is from Bojangles. She told me about it.”

Vriska launches into (very much unwanted) detail about how troll eggs would be bought from poverty stricken parents under the premise that the eggs would be given to a good home. The egg is then incubated for roughly a 4 to 7 weeks and then cooked while in the shell, usually in a garlic vinegar broth.  Then the egg is peeled away the young embryo and yolk eaten.

“Different countries have ways of preparing it,” Vriska adds, not noticing the nausea on your face, “In South Bojangles, they fry it in omelets or stuff it in pastries. In Bojangles, they just use lemon juice and mint leaves. In New Egypt, they just pop it in their mouths with some beer. In Denzia they make a soup and you eat it at weddings with other troll eggs prepared in different ways. They call it ‘troll balut’ or ‘troll caviar’ if they’re sea troll eggs.”  

“That’s fucking horrifying! Why is that shit not illegal?”

“It is illegal, but because it's illegal, it drives the price _way_ up. Average price is ten thou.”

“Eating the young. The perfect dish of the rich and corrupt.” You walk to Vriska and sit her up, “C’mon, Vris. Let’s get you to bed.”

“I don’t have to go to bed…”

“Yeah, you do.” She’s too tired to fight you. You change her into her pajama shirt and pants. When she groans you sigh, “I’ve already seen you naked _and_ had sex with you. What am I gonna do now?”

You drop her in the recuperacoon, watching her body float in the lime slime. You had a regular ‘pod’ type recuperacoon at home while Vriska has the Pirate Princess, complete with plastic steeples and nautical decorations carved into the side. Hopefully you mixed it right and she can get a decent rest. You’re feeling tired yourself and you strip down to your boxers and climb in. It's been ages since you slept in a recuperacoon. The slime is warm and slick, pooling around your waist. You lean against Vriska’s cold skin.

Vriska opens one eye, glares at you, “Off.”

“Oh come on. I’m tired from moving all your shit. Let me sleep.”

“Why are you in _my_ recuperacoon? Who said you can get in? It isn’t _made_ for two people!” She growls.

“Yes it is!”

“No, you aren’t! Get out!” She elbows you, “You can sleep on the couch if you’re staying over!” 

You try to move closer to her, despite the elbowing, “And be down there with the unlocked door and sketchy clowns around? Oh yeah; _real_ fucking safe.”

“Then go home! _Off_!”

She elbows you in the stomach and you wince, easing away, “Why are you so opposed to cuddling? I thought wriggled trolls were supposed to be nicer, not more _vicious_.”

“Maybe fat fucking mutants like you but not me.”

“I am not fat. I’m bulky!”

“I don’t want to cuddle _you._ ” Vriska folds her arms, “We aren’t together, Karkat. I’m going to be dating other trolls, so just…back off!”

It's that last thing that stings the most. The thought of Vriska dating another troll ties your stomach in a knot. Of course she’d find someone else. No doubt trolls are crawling all over themselves just to get her to look at them. You slide out of the recuperacoon, peeling off the film that’s already started to dry on you. You climb on the daybed.

“I just wanted to cuddle as a friend.” you say, even though that’s a blatant lie. “I’m not going to see you as much anymore...”

“When have we _ever_ been close enough friends in recent times to allow cuddling? That was like… _ages_ ago.”

“Well…I thought maybe we could change that since we have a kid.”

“Being friends shouldn’t be our priority, Karkat.” she says, “My main concern is getting a job cause I don’t want to live on food stamps and welfare for the rest of my life.”

“I’m working at getting a job.” You hate it when she’s right. This isn’t like in the movies when two people can rekindle a romance because they have a kid. In the movies, those people already have jobs or income. “Why don’t you work at the casinos or clubs?”

She smirks, showing off her cute fangs. “I work at the casinos.”

“Doing what exactly?”

“Gambling, duh.”

“Oh. Unofficial work.” You grin, “I’m surprised they haven’t caught onto you but you were always smart. That’s why I know our kid’s gonna go far.”

There’s a faint blush to her cheeks and she sinks more into the slime. “I don’t go to the same casinos and I make sure to lose enough that they don’t catch on.”

“Did your awesome pirate grandma teach you that?”

“Yes. I have the best grandparent ever.”

“Bullshit. My grandpa was considerably more bad ass and far more attractive.”

“He never taught _you_ anything useful.”

“He taught me how to swim better than the rest of you jokers.” you say proudly, “Though your grandma’s still alive…though she thinks she’s a pirate.”

“She _was_ a pirate, moron! A pirate _queen!_ ”

The conviction in her voice makes you pause, “You believe your grandmother was _the_ Mindfang?”

“You believe your grandfather was _the_ Signless, right?”

“Yeah but everyone always made fun of me for believing, and you always complain about visiting your grandmother on Winter Holiday.”

“I love my grandma, but I hate going to her nursing home. There’s all these old senile trolls there just waiting to die. And grandma doesn’t recognize me anymore. It's sad seeing her like that. She was a powerful pirate queen and now she’s a forgotten relic of the past with brittle horns and COPD.”

Kanaya’s talked about spending Winter Holiday at Grandma Serket’s nursing home; the hacking coughs she’d give as she struggled to breathe, sometimes needing an oxygen mask. “Older generation trolls get COPD or bronchitis.” she had said, right before her Grandma Maryam’s funeral, “Their bodies aren’t built for this planet. An infection gets in and just stays there until they waste away.” You realize now this is what most likely caused Dualscar’s long lasting illness.

“I think our ancestors were the real deal.” she admits.

You smile. “…really?”

“My grandfather was definitely the Summoner. Only Nitrams directly related to my grandfather have the winged mutation. My grandmother said that the False Emperor had the genetic codes for basic trolls but not _specific_ ones. The Imperial Drones kept ‘stocks’ of genetic material for repopulation and colonization, but because the Skyfall happened so suddenly they didn’t have modern stocks, just old ones. That’s why we’re different from the other hemotypes. We’re ‘off the grid’.”

You imagine the False Emperor puzzled over why the genetic material tanks in the Imperial Storage were so dated, then irritated that he was working with subpar materials for his usurped empire. Like his predecessors; there are no images of him, just a lot of illustrations and theories on what he _might_ have looked like.

“And your other grandfather was the Grand Highblood.” you mention, because with Porrim’s libido who could forget? That’s when you remember, “Fuck, he’s _my_ grandfather too. We’re vaguely related.”

“ _Everyone_ is related to that ass.” Vriska grunts.

You sit in darkness, listening to cars race up and down the street; police sirens and fire trucks cutting down main roads. You’re kicking yourself for not setting up the mosquito netting because bugs are buzzing and flying around.

“…do you think we could be friends again?” You whisper. You did miss your unofficial slumber parties at her trailer, back when you were just two latchkey kits keeping each other’s company.

“I guess.” she says, “Sort of.”

“Sort of? What?” You smile, “Afraid I might have cooties like in second grade?”

“I was right though.” She smirks, “You had cooties. They were called lice and it was gross. Did you never bathe?”

“I bathed! I just never washed my hair because I hated getting water in my eyes and no one ever checked me for it until Grandpa had to pick me up from school because I was covered in bugs.”

“Wasn’t your grandfather so pissed he chased Kankri up on the roof of your trailer?”

“Yeah. Kankri only moved fast when he knew Grandpa was mad at him. He didn’t come down until Mom came back, even though Grandpa had taken me to his place so he could scrub me clean.”

Your grandfather dragged you (by the ear) all the way to his fortified trailer on Sparks Street. You got bathed from head to toe in the backyard like you were Sonny, his crabdog. You miss Sonny. You were sad Kankri wouldn’t let you keep him after Grandpa died.

“Can we have a lusus?” you ask.

“That’s random, and you don’t live here, Karkat.”

“Lusus are very protective of tiny grubs and kits.”

“Karkat, go to _sleep_.”

“Only if we can have a lusus to protect the kid.”

“Fine. Whatever. Go to sleep.”

You do go to sleep after that, your mind finally blotting out music thumping in the house next door and Nehetalian profanity.

 


	2. back at home

You dream of a hazy purple-red night sky as you peek out from the cave. You see your troll-lusus, “Mother” on the sandy horizon. The food she brings is tasteless, fidusuckers and abandoned grubs, but you’re grateful. Once you’re done eating, she tells you that you must move because the cholerbears are migrating and they will occupy the caves for their breeding season. You’re scared to leave your cozy cave but you obey, following her and carrying what few items you have.

The sands stretch for miles and the only markers from uniform red sand are the bristly yucca trees and cacti. You peel cactus fruit’s red spiny shell, and taste the creamy insides. You hear noise not too far from where you are and Mother says you must be still a quiet. You hide under the branches of an ironwood as you see two adult trolls drag a collared yellowblood no older than you. He yelps and whimpers, struggling against the heavy collar. Slavers.

They don’t see your Mother before she’s on them. Blood and viscera splatter the red sand. Mother says you must never come close to her when she’s feeding because she may mistake you for prey. Mother leaves the bodies where they are, drained of their fluids. She wipes her mouth politely with her frock, then turns her attention to the yellowblood crumpled on a sand dune.

She shakes her head. “Nothing but skin and bones. They haven’t bothered with water. The animals.”

You don’t have water to spare but you give him juice strained from the cactus. He coughs but is still shaking and cold. Mother says he may not make it the day and you should leave him. The sun is coming soon. You say you can carry him since he’s already tiny. Mother admires your kindness and uses the slaver ropes to tie the yellowblood to your back. You find cover in a dug-out cave, used by smugglers. Its dusty so they have either forgotten this hide out or they were caught and culled.

You sleep as Mother goes out to gather more food and patrol the area. As long as you are not in her company, her cover is not blown. Mother told you a jadeblood is untouchable and to kill them is taboo. Not even a highblood will cull a jadeblood. They’ll prefer slaving and a slower accidental death rather than culling.

“Why must people be culled?” you asked.

“Because it is the way things are.” Mother replied.

You don’t want the yellowblood to die though. You lay next to him, sleep through the day, and wake at sunset to coughing. The yellowblood’s eyes are dry and there’s bruises along his throat and arms where he was bound, but he is awake and his eyes full of fear. You offer him prickly cactus fruit. “What’s your name?”

He takes the fruit and scarfs it down. He stares at you, mutated bifurcated eyes squinted. He mutters, “Pollux. Pollux Captor.”

You smile. “Kankri Vantas. You’re a psionic right? Mother says most yellowbloods are.” You frown, “That’s why the slavers look for them.”

“They followed me home.” Pollux isn’t teary eyed like some of the escapees Mother and you have found. His expression is hard, “They killed my lusus.”

The slavers weren’t _that_ dumb; to kidnap an underage troll without killing the lusus is a rookie mistake. “You can stay with us. I’m sure Mother won’t mind.”

Mother does mind because now she has to provide for two lost little trolls, but her vascular pump melts when Pollux mentions his dead lusus. A lususless psionic is good as enslaved and strapped into a command consul. You hope that Pollux will be your new best friend.

 

You wake with tears in your eyes, thinking of Pollux Captor who became the Psionic. Much later, he was found murdered. Your grandfather and him hadn’t spoken in years and now it was too late. Vriska is still snoring. You go to the bathroom and take a quick shower before changing back into your wrinkled and sweaty clothes. You head down the stairs to the kitchen, knowing Vriska’s going to need her protein. It's when you’re in the living room you hear a thump in the backyard.

“Hercul! Hercul, you come back here!” 

You open the backdoor to the almost-dirt lot, surrounded by the backs of townhouses. There’s a picnic table, a barbecue grill, and old lawn chairs, so it must be a communal yard. A white carapace girl walks through the yard, hands on her hips. A kit with long horns (Hercul, you assume) is hiding under the picnic table. He’s giving you a pleading look.

The carapace looks at you. “Have you seen a brownblood?”

You shake your head. “Nope.”

The carapace ambles away, grumbling. When she’s gone, Hercul climbs from under the table. A mangy cat follows him, one of its eyes missing. He smiles, “Thank you, Mister.”

You smirk, “You take something from her?”

“No.” The kit scowls, “She tried to kiss me. Kissing is, pardon me, _gross._ ”

“Its gross until you’re my age.” This is a half-truth on your part because you never considered kissing to be gross, even when you were his age. There’s something familiar about this kit too. His horns remind you of Vriska’s with how they splinter, or is it he has Tavros’s eye shape? “Is your last name Nitram?”

“No, it's Droog.”

“Droog?” That’s not a regular troll surname but he could be an immigrant. “So you don’t know Rufioh or Tavros?”

“No. Who are they?”

You sigh, “Nobody important.” You’re now scrutinizing the cat. You’ve seen it slinking around Nitram’s mobilehive. “Where’d you get the cat?”

“I found her. Her name’s Pumpkin. She belonged to some guy.”

“Which guy?”

“I dunno. He just sorta showed up. He was looking for her but he let me keep her. I felt bad for him.”

“Why?”

“He’d been crying. He seemed really, _really_ sad.”

You never thought of Tavros as sad; an asshole, but not ‘sad’. You barely talk to him because you can’t stand his fake ghetto attitude. The kit says goodbye to you and runs off with the cat. You go back inside the house and see Vriska shuffling around, sopor clinging to her hair.

“You should be resting.” you say.

“And you should be home.” she grumbles, walking to the kitchen.

“I could make you breakfast.”

“Go home, Karkat. You have a matesprit, remember?”

“Right.” you mutter, “Of course.”

You leave the townhouse unceremoniously. No bells and whistles for the unquadranted. You get in Aranea’s car and return to the trailer park. The air is clotted with mosquitoes. You drop off Aranea’s car at her mobilehive and walk to Strider’s. The hovertruck is back, piled with the carapace of some monstrous spidery beast. You open the door and smell a terribly unhealthy breakfast cooking. Dave is lying on the couch, and even with the stupid hipster shades you can tell he’s just as tired as you are. You lift his legs so you can sit down.

“Long night?” you mutter.

“You have no fucking clue.”

“…are you hung-over?”

“No. Headache.”

“How much did you drink?” You were raised with Kankri. You could _smell_ a hangover.

“Shut up…”

You get off the couch, leaving Strider to his not-hangover and go to the kitchen. You expect to find Jake humming Young British tavern tunes but instead you see Dirk stirring milky porridge with chopsticks and precision while bacon and eggs fry on the stove besides it. There are fresh bandages on his arm and neck.

“Where’s Jake?” you ask.

“Resting.”

“Is he alright?”

“The lusus was tougher than we thought. It had four arms and one of them got a hold of him. Cracked two of his ribs before it finally went down.”

“Holy shit.” It had to have a massive grip to injure Jake. You don’t want to think what it’d do to normal people, or children. “Is he gonna be okay?”

“The ribs didn’t dislodge or puncture a lung, so he’ll survive.” He smiles, grabs a shot glass next to a bottle of clear alcohol. He tosses it back, “My husband’s too stubborn to die like that.”

If Jake was a troll, he’d be a vicious purpleblood. You could see Dirk as a calm and refined cerulean. You look at the porridge. “Is that the cure for a hangover?”

Dirk smirks. “If only that’s what the problem is. But no, buckwheat porridge and vodka to steady myself after such hard work.”

“I thought you were all about eating Asian stuff?”

He smiles, humoring you, “There’s more to me than just my interests, Karkat.”

Jake is easy to understand; a loud, friendly, bear of a man. Dirk you’re unsure of. Like everyone he interacts with, he keeps you at arm’s length but on occasion you get a strange, small smile. If he wasn’t married, you’d think he was flirting with you. It reminds you of being with your grandfather, though you can’t understand why your brain would make _that_ comparison. “Can I ask you a question?”

“That depends. Do I have to answer it?” But he’s smiling as he says this, teasing you.

“Well, I guess not but…” you mutter, “Jake said he was okay with me saying here. Why were you okay with it? A mutantblood drops out of nowhere and stays in your place and eats your food? I know Dave and me are dating but…” _I might also feel differently towards him quadrantwise and I’m not sure if he’ll accept that and I might get kicked out even though I like_ you _guys._

“You’re asking me why I let an alien move into my home, especially in New Jack City where interspecies relations are still something you whisper about?”

“Yeah.” You nod, “Something like that.”

“Human, troll, carapace, or reptile; we are all poverty stricken and live in the trailer park. This is our home, and we have to protect it and support each other. We may all be different but all we want is the best for our children. Speaking of children”—he turns off the stove—“what about yours?”

“Mine.” You remember Vriska, Terezi and her twins. “I’m getting a job.”

“What kind of job?”

“It offers health care at least.”

You see his eyebrows go up but he says, “Let’s hope it holds up to its promises; even Gamzee has a job.”

“What? How did that clown get a job? He’s an ex-felon!”

Dirk shrugs, “He’s clean of drugs, young, and willing to do anything. Mirth Gras is next week and they need all the help they can get setting up. Once he has work history, it’ll be slightly easier to get more. It won’t be perfect but it’s something.”

“How do you know about that?”

A smile, “I just do.”

The clown hates humans more than you hate clowns. “Do you… _know_ Gamzee?”

He frowns slightly, his expression back to calm neutrality. “I think you have other concerns. Namely, what about Terezi?”

“What about her? She has Kankri to provide for her now.”

“Karkat,” he sounds tired explaining this, “Terezi is going to have twins.”

“So?”

“Welfare in New Jack City does not support troll multiples.”

“ _What_?”

Dirk shakes his head, “If trolls have multiples, the welfare received either gets cut in half or you get pushed to the bottom of the list for it. The logic behind this, from the perspective of the law makers, is that this will prevent trolls from trying to cheat the system. Of course this takes out of the equation that trolls are polyamorous and naturally prone to multiples.”

“What’s going to happen to Terezi and Kankri?”

Dirk shrugs. “The usual options offered to trolls: smash, keep, or donate.”

“Don’t you mean put up for adoption?”

Dirk rolls his eyes, “The people that run the adoption agencies don’t turn a blind eye to how much troll eggs are worth on the black market. Those agencies have to get funding _somehow._ ”

 _Troll Balut_ , you hear Vriska whisper. Your stomach churns, “I’m not going to let that happen. I’ll take the kid in myself. Um, if that’s okay; cause its your hive.”

“Actually—”

You see his hesitation and think of a second plan, “ _Wait_! I can just ask Meenah to take them in! Or maybe she’s doing something for Feferi!” You race to the door, “I’ll be back later!”

Dirk sighs as you leave the mobilehive. The sun is bright, casting small shadows in the early morning. You walk to Meenah’s house, questions running through your mind. How is Terezi handling the news? What about Kankri? He just got sober when the system is cracking down on him. Can you even take care of a kid on your own? You’re still young yourself and raising a grub isn’t easy.  

But as your sneakers are soaking into Two Boot Drive’s soggy road, your mind wanders back to Cronus, your mother by choice not by laying. Other questions bubble up.

_hes not your grandpa, kid. he nevwer vwas._

_he told you *evwerything*?_

_did he tell you vwhat happened to the egg?_

What about the egg indeed? Has everything you’ve been told a lie? What if Kankri isn’t even your parent? What if you were found floating in a swamp? You know from the pictures you found that your grandfather and the Condesce were involved and Meenah always referred to your grandfather as her father. You assumed she’d just been abandoned and then adopted by your grandfather. You never thought of her as blood relative.

You go to the Peixes mobilehive but there’s no one there. You see Meenah leave out the back though. You follow the fuschiablood, trying to get her attention but she’s going at hurried pace and looking distracted. She turns on a street and you follow her until you…arrive on Weatherborn Lane. You haven’t been here in years, not since the night of your grandfather’s funeral. Its eerie walking down the street, looking at the property that’s in a better condition than your old home ever was. Things seem to be frozen in time here. Meenah enters your grandfather’s augmented trailer. You try to follow but the door is locked. You grumble and go around the side. Fine. You’ll wait. You got all the time in the world to wait.

Meenah isn’t in there long. You’re swatting mosquitoes when she comes back out. She comes out the back though and you peek at her from over the fence. You see her go to some lump in far edge of the back yard, pulling weeds and kudzu off of it. There’s an old car under there, mossy and slightly rusted but it still looks like it could run. She’s sitting on the hood now, staring off into space.

You open the gate and slowly approach her. She’s in a world of her own until you’re three feet from her. Meenah’s earfins prick up. She looks at you, eyes watery with tears.

“I uh...” you stutter, “saw you leave your hive and was going to wait for you to come back but...uh, you were taking a while and I got worried...” You look down.

She smiles and gestures for you to come over. “No, no it's cool, Kar. Was just...thinking about Dad and the past is all...”

You ease closer to her, “Yeah...Grandpa did a lot of crazy things in life I bet with you two...” You sigh, “Cronus is always going to be my Dad but, I guess I just want some closure on who was the deadbeat that knocked up Kankri, then ran for the hills and forgot I existed...”

“I'm guessing you haven't asked Kankri about this?” Meenah asks, tilting her head.

“Like he would tell me. He would talk about triggers and then say it was Cronus even though I know Cronus isn’t my biological father. I just want to know. I mean, what if I need that information for health concerns in the future...?” You pause again before looking at her. Your mouth is dry. Your stomach clenches. You struggle not to stammer, “Do you know...who my father was? My biological father?”

She doesn’t give you the answer immediately. She sits up and closes her eyes, reaches out to put an arm around you and pull you in close. “…well…” She takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. The question still hangs in the air as you look at her.

“Signless,” you finally say, looking at him, “The Signless is your father.”

You feel like you’ve been sucker punched in the chest by the past. “… _what_? Grandpa’s my grandfather!” you insist.

“He’s _also_ your father.” Meenah says.

You stare at her face trying to find the punch line but it never comes. She looks back at you, blankly. Your anger quickly overtakes your shock, “You gotta be fucking kidding me!”

“We’re trolls, Karkat.” is the explanation you get, “Sometimes that happens. Back on Alternia, Kankri would have been good as pailed.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s the truth! My grandfather would have said something! Why…why would he _keep this_ from me? I…everything…” You clench your fists, letting the claws cut into your palm. “My life is…a fucking lie! Everything I’ve ever been told was a _lie_! Cronus wasn’t my mother. Eridan’s not my full-blooded brother! My grandfather is the fucking Grand Highblood! It's too much! Too many fucking lies built on lies and then those lies have other lies! When does this shit _end_?”

“I’m telling you the truth, Karkat.” Meenah slides off the old car, standing. “He was your father and your grandfather. Kankri wasn’t really greatest of states mentally so we just kept it under wraps. No big deal.”

“Yes! _Yes, it’s a big fucking deal!_ ” You snarl, “My father is my grandfather and my father! Kankri is my half-brother! _That’s incredibly fucked up!_ ”

“Not for trolls really…” Meenah sighs.

“Then for _me_ its fucked up!” You walk to the gate.

“Where are you going Karkat?” She sounds worried. She’s moving closer to you but you’re moving faster.

“To fucking Kankri! He has to answer for this shit!”

“Karkat, Kankri’s not the one to—”

 _“Stop defending him!”_ You yank open the gate, shaking with anger. “Every time I want a straight answer, every time I want the fucking _truth,_ I have to hear it from a third party! I’m tired of beating around the bush! I want a _straight answer_ from Kankri!”

You leave before Meenah can say anything to persuade you not to do this. You’re livid, running to your old mobilehive.

You bang at the door and Terezi answers, “Karkat? What are you doing here? I’ve been trying to message you all day—”

You move past her, “Where’s Kankri? That bastard needs to show this face! I got questions for that fat fuck!”

“Karkat, what is it?” Terezi sighs, “It’s too early for whatever you’re hyped up about.”

You prowl around the living room for signs of Kankri. “Where is _he_ , Terezi?!”

Terezi walks to the couch and sits down, “Karkat. Sit down. You’re like a weasel-lusus sniffing out eggs. You’re not making a lot of sense.”

You sit down next to her, “This is fucking serious!”

“Karkat,” She touches your shoulder, “take a deep breath, okay?” You take a deep breath, “Karkat, what day is it?”

“Um,” you mutter, “Thursday…”

“And what time is it?” Terezi asks tiredly.

You look at the window, judging by how blue the sky is. “Maybe around eight or seven…”

“Its seven fifty, Karkat, on a Thursday morning.” Terezi says, “So what do most people do on weekday mornings?”

“Work…” You grumble, “…after all these years, Kankri’s actually at _work_. I guess it hasn’t sunk in that he’s really cleaned up his act.”

“It's not much but it’ll help with the bills. I have a secretarial job interview later on today at Somnolent. If I can get it, it’ll make things a lot easier. If not, I’ll have to look into Crockercorp or NEBio.”

Somnolent was a branch of Alternicorp that made commercial sopor slime. You feel like an asshole; you barged in here ranting and raving about Kankri while Terezi has to worry about providing for twins.

“I got a job offer too from the Merry Meet Maid Service,” you say, “so at least you’ll get a monthly check from me to help out with the grubs.”

“That doesn’t sound like a good idea. They just had a news report about the most dangerous jobs for trolls.” Terezi says, “And about the grubs…well, you welfare will only cover the one that’s Kankri’s so…”

“Yeah, Dirk told me.” That’s when you remember you didn’t respond to the M3S job saying you were interested in an interview. You stand, “Shit! I still have to call them! I better do that now!”

“Karkat, slow down. I have to tell you—” Terezi says.

“We’ll talk later, okay?” You bolt to the door.

Terezi sighs as you run across the street. You can worry about Kankri and the past later on once your kids’ future is secured. When you enter the door of the Strider mobilehive, Dave is still lying on the couch.

“Uh, Karkat—”

“ _Later_ , Strider!”

You jump on his bed and pull out your husktop, getting back on Monster.com and filling out the form from the Merry Meet Maid Service. You eat a quick lunch while awaiting a response. Dave seems to be sluggishly out of it and you’re wondering how much he _did_ drink last night. Eventually he slinks to his bedroom and crawls into bed.

You go the living room and ask Dirk “How much did he drink last night?”

Dirk is sitting on the couch watching Gunhusk Wing. “I think there’s something else on his mind.”

“I can’t blame him. I’m waiting to see when I can get a job interview in.” You sit next to him, checking your Monster account via iHusk for updates.

“How much does it pay?”

“More than minimum, with health care benefits.”

“What’s the name of—”

Your iHusk chimes. “Hold on.” You look at your Monster account and smile, “Alright!”

“What is it?”

“They want an interview right away!” You stand and run to Strider’s bedroom.

“When?” Dirk asks.

“This afternoon!”

You don’t have much for professional clothes, just the suit and tie you wear to funerals. The last time you wore it, it was last year at Grandma Maryam’s funeral. It was the second saddest funeral you’d ever been to. It wasn’t just Kanaya sobbing but how silent and grim Kurloz and Porrim were. You sniff the suit; it smells faintly of mothballs. You pin it to the clothes line to let it air out.

You sit on the back porch and look at Trollichum. You have several messages from Terezi wanting to talk to you about something. You’re about to message her back when you get another message.

 

\--caringGnostic[CG] began trolling carcinoGeneticist[CG]!—

\--Due to conflict, caringGnostic[CG] will be rendered [CG2] for this conversation--

 

CG2: Karkat, we have t9 talk.

CG2: I kn9w we haven’t sp9ken in…quite s9me time 6ut we need t9 talk a69ut things that are very…weighty…right n9w. T9 6e h9nest, I’d prefer t9 d9 this face t9 face.

CG: FUCK YOU. I HAVE A JOB INTERVIEW TO GET TO. I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR YOU OR YOUR BULLSHIT NOW. AND SHOULDN’T YOU BE AT WORK? OR HAVE YOU ALREADY HIT THE BAR?

CG2: First, that is an incredi6ly rude thing t9 say. Sec9ndly, I get a lunch 6reak. Terezi sent me a message that y9u needed t9 urgently speak t9 me.

CG: I’M BUSY SO FUCK OFF. WHY SHOULD YOU EVEN CARE ABOUT ALL THE LIES YOU SHOVED DOWN MY THROAT? YOU NEVER CARED BEFORE. YOU NEVER PAID ME ANY ATTENTION SINCE I WASN’T MADE OF GLASS AND FILLED WITH BOOZE.

CG2: Y9u seem m9re…vitr9lic t9day. And what lies?

CG: COME OFF YOUR HIGH HORSEARONI AND BACK TO REALITY, YOU FAT FUCK.

CG2: Karkat, please st9p. Please…tell me what this is all a69ut.

CG: HAVE YOU EVER TOLD ME THE TRUTH ABOUT ANYTHING?  WHAT ABOUT YOU BEING CELIBATE AND ALL FOR EQUALITY AMONG SPECIES WHEN YOU WERE MY AGE? WAS THAT SHIT A LIE TOO?

CG2: Karkat, please calm d9wn. What is it y9u want?

CG: I WANT THE FUCKING TRUTH, KANKRI!

CG2: 9kay. I will try t9 answer y9u t9 the 6est 9f my a6ilities.

CG: SHUT THE FUCK UP, KANKRI. FOR ONCE, JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GIVE ME A ‘YES’ OR ‘NO’. I DON’T WANT ANY OF YOUR PANSY ASS BULLSHITTING.

CG2: 9-9kay…

CG: WAS GRANDPA MY FATHER TOO?

CG2: …

CG2: …w-why are y9u asking?

CG: KANKRI!

CG: YES. OR. NO.

CG2: …

CG2: Well, if y9u want t9 kn9w s9 6adly…then…

CG2: …

CG2: I just h9ped that when I had this c9nversati9n with y9u, we’d d9 it face t9 face, Karkat. D9ing it via text seems s9 inf9rmal. It diminishes the m9ment.

CG: KANKRI! QUIT. FUCKING. STALLING.

CG2: Alright.  

CG2: Karkat, yes, Vantas Seni9r y9ur father and y9ur grandfather.

 

You’ve been sucker punched a second time and you can feel it in the middle of your stomach. You’re gripping the iHusk hard enough to break it.

 

CG: WHY.

CG: WHY DIDN’T EITHER OF YOU FUCKING TELL ME?!

CG2: I c9uld make several excuses. I c9uld say that the circumstances 9f y9ur 6irth weren’t desiera6le 6ut that w9uld 6e inc9rrect 6ecause y9u were the 6est thing t9 ever happen t9 me. I c9uld say that it was 6ecause I was with Cr9nus 6ut I was with him f9r 9ther reas9ns. I c9uld say it was 6ecause I was em6arassed a69ut having an egg s9 y9ung 6ut that’s inc9rrect. The truth is, Karkat, I wasn’t in my right mind. I was c9ming 9ut 9f a very a6usive situati9n. When I had y9u, things started c9ming t9gether a 6it m9re.

CG2: Then Dualscar smashed my egg and raped me and that was the end 9f that 6rief feeling 9f happiness. 

CG2: I’ve never 6een a happy tr9ll, Karkat, even when I was y9ung. H9w c9uld I 6e? The 9ne pers9n wh9 cared f9r me left when I was y9ung. My father despised me as did the 9ther children. I was an 9utcast am9ng the 9utcasts. Even n9w, my m99d wafts 6etween “depressed” and “a little less depressed” with the 9ccasi9nal 69uts 9f mania and an urge t9 drink.

CG2: It was even w9rse when I was y9unger and I’ll admit, I was very neglectful t9wards y9u when y9u were a kit. After my father died I cracked under the pressure 9f life. I c9nstantly c9ntemplated suicide 6ut the 9nly thing that kept me fr9m it was that I knew y9u’d 6e left al9ne if I did. That, and I feared the pain 9f the m9re p9pular meth9ds 9f suicide. 9verd9sing 9n pills caused t99 much suffering, suff9cati9n was ag9ny, hanging c9uld 6e 69tched…I de6ated c9nstantly and I drank t9 ease the pain. 

CG2: I kn9w its n9 excuse 6ut please. Understand things fr9m my perspective.

CG: SO YOU LIED TO ME TO MAKE YOURSELF FEEL BETTER AND EVERYONE WENT ALONG WITH IT.

CG2: Y9ur grandfather always wanted t9 tell y9u 6ut I think that amulet 9f his pr9ves that he l9ved y9u a l9t m9re than he would ever l9ve me. He gave y9u and Meenah all the l9ve and affecti9n while I received hatred, even t9 the day 9f his death.

CG: FUCK YOU, KANKRI. STOP TRYING TO BLAME GRANDPA FOR THIS. YOU’RE THE ONE WHO’S FUCKED UP. YOU’VE FUCKED UP YOUR WHOLE LIFE AND NOW YOU’VE FUCKED UP MINE.

CG2: Karkat. Please. #tw: hurtful insults #tw: depressi9n #tw: anxiety dis9rder

CG: LIKE I GIVE A SHIT WHAT TRIGGERS YOU! ITS ALWAYS ABOUT YOU! YOUR ISSUES! YOUR PROBLEMS! NO WONDER GRANDPA WAS SICK OF YOUR SHIT!

CG2: #TW: DEPRESSI9N

CG2: ST9P

CG2: ST9P IT

CG2: please

CG2: karkat please please st9p st9p it st9p it please

CG2: im in the 6reak r99m i d9nt want t9 have a panic attack at w9rk

CG: OH, FUCKING GROW UP ALREADY!

 

\--carcinoGeneticist[CG] ceased trolling caringGnostic[CG2]!—

 

CG2: karkat please listen

CG2: y9u d9nt understand

 

\--carcinoGeneticist[CG] blocked caringGnostic[CG2]!—

 

You don’t care if you’re being an asshole. You’re just sick of his excuses and trying to make this about _his_ problems. Are you supposed to forget all the shitty things he’s done to you? Being depressed never stopped Kankri from hitting you. Being your mother never taught him to protect you. Fuck Kankri. The asshole never did a thing for you. It was always Meenah, Cronus, or your grandfather who helped you. The only difference now is that you can show him what a deadbeat asshole he was all along.

You’ll be twice the parent he ever was.

 


End file.
